


Scarred

by RazzleDazzleBerry



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Abuse, Angst, F/M, Nightmares, PTSD, So much angst, Triggers Apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazzleDazzleBerry/pseuds/RazzleDazzleBerry
Summary: Bulma takes care of Vegeta after a training accident leaves him injured and unconscious. However, caring for physical wounds isn't all that's required. Vegeta's violent nightmares and Gohan's recollection of Vegeta's crying just before Frieza killed him leave her wondering what could have happened to cause a proud Saiyan to cry. Neither of them are ready to face Vegeta's emotional scars, but if anyone can help him heal, it's Bulma.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please abide by the triggers warning. While I won't go into too much graphic detail regarding Frieza's abuse of Vegeta, it will be hinted at.

A few hours had passed since Vegeta was blown up along with the gravity chamber in Bulma’s backyard. Bulma watched as the sleeping Saiyan groaned painfully in her bed, murmuring strings of unintelligible curses at each nightmare harassing his sleep. Each muscle contracted in response to the horrific stampede of tortured memories which caused the countless shiny scars on his body to refract the soft bedroom lighting. Bulma couldn’t believe how many scars Vegeta’s body was covered in. She knew he had been in his fair share of battles, but so had Goku and she had never seen a scar on him. 

Her eyes wandered curiously over Vegeta’s arms. Small knicks and cuts littered his tan skin with pale sunken scars. The worst of the scars on his arms was secluded to his shoulder where a thick raised knot protruded more than half an inch. The sight of that scar caused Bulma’s stomach to churn. Whatever wounded him must have been powerful and painful. 

Bulma’s gaze left the scar on Vegeta’s shoulder and followed a trail of tiny white scars which freckled his chest. To her they looked as though they were caused by a scattering of hot ash, something, she thought, would have been a reasonable conclusion considering how many worlds Vegeta had blown apart in his time. However, the trail ended with another large raised scar that disappeared beneath the sheets on her bed. 

Curiosity took ahold of Bulma and she carefully reached out toward Vegeta. Her fingers slipped beneath the sheet, but a sudden jolt of movement from the Saiyan sent her scampering back again. 

“Ahung-AH!” Vegeta called out, his eyes still scrunched shut. “No! Ah!”

Wide-eyed and terrified, Bulma’s knuckles turned bone white as she clung onto her desk chair for dear life. Vegeta’s jaw clenched, his hands fisted around the sheets, and his head tossed from side to side. His horrible shouting terrified Bulma, and the agony on his face pulled on heartstrings she didn’t know she held for him. 

“No! I— I won’t! No, Frieza! Uhn-guh!” His scarred hand flew to the marks on his chest as he cried out painfully, “No, don’t! I’ll do it. Stop— Frieza, please! I’ll do it! AHHH!”

Vegeta’s nightmare was too much to continue witnessing. Bulma could hardly breathe, but she finally found the courage to move. She leapt from her chair and placed one of her cool hands on Vegeta’s shoulder with the intent to shake him awake, but he suddenly calmed the moment her gentle hand graced his skin. 

“Wha—?” She looked on astonished as the crease between Vegeta’s brow relaxed, and a serene angelic look of slumber settled on his rough exterior. 

Bulma’s hand slipped from the sleeping Saiyan’s shoulder as she settled back in her chair. Her mind wandered as it so often did when faced with something she didn’t quite understand yet.

_ I wonder what that was all about. He was dreaming about Frieza, but not much else made any sense. I’m almost afraid to admit it, but it sounded like Vegeta was pleading with Frieza. That can’t be right, can it? _

Once more she studied the Saiyan. He looked so peaceful now, but she knew he was a deadly force. The very idea of him pleading seemed so absurd. He was just so powerful! Then again, Frieza had been a formidable opponent in his own right, and he did hold control over Vegeta for most of his life. While she had not seen it personally, she did recall Gohan’s retelling of Vegeta’s death once they had returned to Earth. She remembered how Vegeta sobbed to Goku before Frieza’s attack claimed his life. 

A sudden realization hit Bulma like a ton of bricks as she considered Vegeta’s enslavement. Her blue eyes took in Vegeta’s face as a sinking hole opened in her gut. She observed the furrow in his brow beginning its return, and, as he released a single pained moan, she realized how little she had actually considered of Vegeta’s past. 

He thrashed once, groaned, and then thrashed again. The color in Bulma’s cheeks drained as she asked aloud, “Just what happened to him to make this proud Saiyan cry?”

* * *

“VEGETAAA!”

Vegeta woke with the sound of Raditz’s screams ringing in his ears. Soft rays of early morning light streamed through the window above the unfamiliar bed he laid in. He looked around cautiously, but otherwise unalarmed. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up in a healing chamber or infirmary, but a bed? That was a new one. 

He glanced to his right to find Bulma snoring at her desk. Dark purple tinted circles were formed beneath her eyes, and her normal bouncy turquoise curls were deflated. It looked as though she had gone several rounds in a boxing match and had been knocked out. An odd contrast considering how well rested Vegeta felt for once.  _ Has she been there all night? Why… why would she stay? _

Before moving, Vegeta mentally checked over his body. His head pounded, his ribs were definitely cracked, and his arm felt like it had been hit by a meteor. Overall, not too bad.  _ Could’ve been worse,  _ he thought.  _ If I can walk, I can train. _ A small groan escaped him as one of his broken ribs jabbed into his lung upon attempting to sit up. 

“Huh?! Wha—? Vegeet—?” Bulma startled half awake and jumped over to Vegeta’s side. Her head spun, and she lost feeling in her legs. She crashed onto the bed, on top of Vegeta, causing the Saiyan to yowl in excruciating pain. 

“GAHH! Woman!!”

“Oh my god, Vegeta!” She hopped off of him as quickly as she could. “I’m so sorry! I stood up too fast! Are you okay?”

His brows pinched tightly together. “Do I look okay to you?!” Bulma began thoroughly checking over Vegeta while completely ignoring his yelling. Hands ghosted everywhere checking bandages, palpating his ribs, and frantically measuring any additional damages. She only registered the moment when he silenced. 

In her rush to help, Bulma didn’t realize she had come to rest one hand atop the knotted scar on Vegeta’s chest. Black eyes bore into her hand, nostrils flared, and Vegeta’s chest stopped moving as he held his breath. 

With near Saiyan-like speed, Bulma withdrew her hands from Vegeta. “Sorry, I, uh… I didn’t mean to—”

His eyes followed Bulma’s movements as she backed away cautiously. From where he laid, she looked too much like a frightened animal. It was the same look many had given him in the past, a look he had once enjoyed endlessly, but now that look sickened him. What was she so nervous about, anyways? He had been living here long enough that she had become comfortable around him. He even dared to believe she had started to trust him just a bit, but the way she looked at him now.... “Why were you sleeping at your desk?”

“Uh…” Bulma began nervously, “you were yelling in your sleep last night.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “So?”

“So? So, I was worried.” Truth rang so clearly in Bulma’s innocent answer. She was worried about him? No one had ever shown worry toward him from what he could recall. It felt foreign and bizarre; worry was for the weak, and he was not weak! 

Vegeta flexed his abdominal muscles and pushed himself up onto his elbow, intent to scold her for believing him to be weak, when he realized she said he had been yelling in his sleep. His heart pounded against his cracked ribs, but his voice remained as firm and unwavering as ever, “What did I say, exactly?”

“Well,” Bulma finally sat back in her chair as she spoke, “you were yelling something about Frieza and clutching your chest. At first you were very easy to understand, but, as the night went on, you became harder to understand and harder for me to calm.”

The blood pumping through Vegeta’s veins turned to ice. “Harder for you to calm?” Had he been so weak that he unknowingly required another person to chase away some pathetic nightmare? 

Vegeta took in the dark circles under Bulma’s eyes indicating a long restless night. She nodded. Damn it. He was supposed to be stronger than this, and yet he had required the assistance of an exceptionally weak human? Unacceptable. He had to train harder. 

“Get some rest.” Vegeta clenched his jaw, and sat the rest of the way up despite his protesting muscles and cracking bones. Bulma moved to assist him, but he pushed her away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t need your help, woman. I am a Saiyan!”

“But—”

“Get out of my way.” The Saiyan stood, and stormed out of Bulma’s room. He silently cursed himself, his weakness, and all that came along with that weakness. Weakness led to defeat. Defeat invited pity, and he would not tolerate anyone looking at him with pity filled eyes. No. He wouldn’t allow this weakness to hinder him. He would train himself to death if that’s what it took to get rid of it. 

Marching down the stairs, Vegeta crossed paths with Doctor Briefs who explained that he had already built another gravity chamber for him. This one, they both hoped, would be more durable than the last.  Determined to begin training as quickly as possible, Vegeta ignored Panchy’s presentation of breakfast and walked into the gravity chamber without acknowledging anything or anyone. Besides, it was always his father’s rule that breakfast would not be offered until after training. It was motivation, so to speak. Though Vegeta didn’t need that particular motivation anymore, he still kept the practice his father had set in place so long ago. He stepped inside the chamber, closed the door, and didn’t answer for anyone. 

Training passed quickly enough. Vegeta spent the morning blowing up target bots and practicing kicking techniques. Then, when the clock read midday, Vegeta started working on his hand movements. A grip on an imaginary wrist, two punches to an invisible stomach, grab the tip of an ear, rip and repeat. Over and over and over. He fought and defeated countless unseen foes until he couldn’t feel his hands anymore. As soon as they were satisfactorily numb, he dropped onto them and pushed the earth down as many times as he could. Vegeta decided he would push the weakness out of him until he could no longer feel his arms as well. He grunted angrily with each movement, but no matter how hard he trained he just couldn’t flush any of his awful memories from his mind. 

As he exhausted himself, Bulma appeared on the video phone looking refreshed yet frustrated. “Vegeta! Get back in bed right now! You need to rest!”

His blood boiled, his jaw clenched, and a deep growl rumbled his chest. “Leave me alone!!”

Bulma’s facial features rapidly changed from frustration to hurt and her shoulders dropped. She hung up the phone, but not before Vegeta saw the hurt on her face. The screen went black and he collapsed onto the ground while stringing together curses in his native tongue. Why did he always do this? Why did he reject her caring attention with such brash and hateful attitude? He was angry, but he wasn’t angry with her. 

Vegeta rolled onto his back, the red lights of the gravity chamber darkening the shadows around his eyes. No, he certainly wasn’t angry with Bulma. She reminded him of strong saiyan women who kept their planet functioning smoothly while their husbands, sons and brothers were conquering planets for trade. Bulma knew how to cut into moments of tension with distracting questions and demands. She took care of him without once being asked or thanked, and, even though she complained about repairing the broken target bots, she always fixed them and added small improvements.

The Saiyan sat up and cradled his head in his hands. The only person he hated here was himself. He hated his weaknesses, his failures. He hated that Kakarot’s abilities had surpassed his own. If only he had been as strong as Kakarot, he could have saved his planet. Perhaps he could have saved them all. But, his jaw clenched as his anger whirled into an endless abyss of despair, self loathing and loss, he wasn’t as strong as Kakarot. He was weak. He was defeated. The proof of which reflected in sharp jagged lines across his chest. Vegeta’s fingertips pressed against that scar. He couldn’t save anyone, not even himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was long after three in the morning before Vegeta stepped out of the gravity chamber with sweat dripping from every pore. His bandages were gone, having been rendered useless from all of his sweat, leaving his wounds exposed and oozing where the weak scabs had torn. He quietly slid open the sliding glass door to enter Bulma’s house, and tiptoed to the second floor where he could shower without disturbing anyone. 

Soaked clothes clung to his tired body and resisted removal, but eventually he stood bare beneath the shower head as water cascaded over his numb muscles. This was his favorite part of training. A shower at the end of training signaled a job completed and an increase in strength. It was the only time he genuinely felt proud of himself and felt as though he had accomplished something important. 

After stepping out of the shower he quickly dried and pulled on a spare pair of Yamcha's baggy sweatpants before exiting the bathroom. He walked past Bulma’s bedroom door as he silently made his way through Capsule Corp's residential halls to the couch in the upstairs living room where he intended to knock out for the remainder of the night. The couch came into view, but so did a giant lump snoring loudly on top of it. 

Vegeta rolled his eyes. Yamcha. 

He roughly nudged Yamacha’s foot hanging off the couch. “Shall I sleep in your bed or are you going to get out of mine?”

A few grunts sounded from Yamcha as he rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Vegeta?” Sleep quickly abandoned him upon speaking Vegeta’s name and he shot to his feet as he suddenly remembered why he had waited for Vegeta to turn in for the night. “Vegeta! Do you have any idea how much you upset Bulma tonight? She took you into her home and cared for your every need. What gives you the right to yell at her?”

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. “Back off, Yamcha. If Bulma has a problem with something I’ve done then she should be the one confronting me.”

Yamcha’s brows drew together as his fists tightened. “I have every right to stand up for my girlfriend when she’s been insulted and hurt. Especially when it comes to you.”

“Especially me?” Vegeta sneered as he spoke, “How did that work out for you the last time? As I recall you couldn’t defend the planet let alone your girlfriend.”

“Grr, Vegeta!” Yamcha rose his voice and delivered his own low blow, “If it wasn’t for your arrogance you probably could be as strong as Goku! But what sets you apart is Goku’s demonstration of humility and acceptance of his mistakes. You will always be weaker than Goku!”

“YAMCHA!” Bulma shouted from the doorway causing the hair on the back of their necks to stick up. She stomped forward, fuming and red faced. “Is it not enough that you two get into it every single day? Now you have to start a fight at three in the morning?! From now on keep your squabbles outside and NEVER WAKE ME UP THIS EARLY AGAIN!”

Vegeta smirked as Bulma chewed Yamcha out. She was so alike any Saiyan woman he once knew in the way she acted. She only lacked physical strength to back up her threats. However, he considered, perhaps she could hold her own against a normal human. 

“AND YOU!” Bulma stuck her face in Vegeta’s, yet she wasn’t able to intimidate him in the slightest. He stood rock solid as she yelled at him. “If you choose to train yourself to death, fine. But don’t you  _ EVER _ speak to me that way again, or else!”

“Or else what?” He pressed her to validate her threat with a realistic action. 

Bulma’s nostrils flared. “Or else I’ll unplug your gravity chamber!  _ Permanently _ !”

Vegeta nodded knowing full well she could and would make good on her threat. In that moment he came to respect her just a little bit more. 

“Fair enough. But,” he wouldn’t end this without an instruction of his own, “do not interrupt me when I’m training anymore. I must stay focused. There are likely greater beings than Frieza out there who can turn against us all if they so choose and I will not be left unprepared to face them head on due to your interruptions.”

Yamcha snarled. “By ‘greater beings’ do you mean Goku? You really think he would turn on his friends? He’s not like you!”

“YAMCHA! I’ve had enough of you tonight! Get out of here!” Bulma’s frustrated screech pierced their ears and he finally stormed off to his room. She didn’t wait to witness him stalking off before readdressing Vegeta who looked cool despite Yamcha’s insults. Her voice lowered this time, “Whatever your intentions are for training so hard doesn’t matter to me. Just promise me you will take care of yourself, and I will promise to stop interrupting. That’s all I ask of you. ”

Another nod in response to her request, but this time he was more confused than he was accepting of her conditions. “Why do you care so much what I do with myself?”

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly as she settled down. “I don’t know. I guess I kind of like having you around. You’re a complete pain sometimes, but there’s something about you that I just can’t put my finger on. Now,” she reached out to poke Vegeta’s sore shoulder as she continued, “wake me up again and I’ll rip you apart myself no matter how much I enjoy your company.”

The carpet beneath Bulma’s feet quieted her footfall as she made her way back to her bedroom, but the silence boomed in Vegeta’s ears as he stood stunned. She actually liked his company? No one had ever stated as much to him before. 

His knees felt wobbly from more than his extensive training, and his heart hammered in his chest. There wasn’t a hint of a lie in Bulma’s statement as her words kept echoing in Vegeta’s mind. She sincerely wanted him to stick around, but why? What had he done to earn her company? He kept pushing her away, and yet she accepted him when no other would. 

Vegeta stepped toward the couch and promptly sank into it. As he covered himself with the blanket Yamcha had left behind, his mind rushed with questions he couldn’t answer. He was only certain of one thing; Bulma Briefs was unlike any human he had met thus far. 

The day’s exhaustive training claimed Vegeta’s consciousness not long after he finally laid down. This time his sleep was devoid of tormenting nightmares which typically left him more worn out when he finally awoke than when he fell asleep, but that was the point of training so hard. 

Throughout the remainder of the night, Bulma snuck over to Vegeta’s couch to check on him every hour. His pride had kept him from accepting the help she gave to him the night before, but it was clear he desperately needed it. Unlike the previous night, he slept on peacefully without a single telling twitch of nightmares she couldn’t see, nor a groan or whisper of words once spoken to someone else. Perhaps, she thought, the real reason he trained so hard was to expend every last drop of his energy so that none would be left over to create his nightmares. 

The next morning Vegeta was unexpectedly awakened by Panchy who wore her cleaning overalls, a white tank top, and a bright red bandana wrapped over her curly hair. “Oh, Vegeta. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I have some important guests coming over later tonight and I want to make sure the house is spotless. Do you mind lending me a hand with the furniture, dear?”

“Erm,” he sat up and nodded, “but my training….”

“Oh don’t worry! This won’t take long at all. Honest, I was just hoping you could lift the couches so I can vacuum under them.” As she spoke Vegeta’s stomach growled loud enough for her to hear which caused her to chuckle amused. “I’ll whip you up some fluffy pancakes when we’re through. When was the last time you ate anything?”

“Well, there is that bean water contraption in the gravity chamber.” He couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything more substantial. His sole focus had been training, but now that they were talking about it, he realized he was starving. 

“Oh! You mean the cappuccino machine? Oooh, I just love a good cappuccino.” Panchy clapped her hands together. “Alright let’s get to it! You’ll help me with my cleaning and then I’ll make you a nice big breakfast complete with a delicious cup of coffee!”

She didn’t wait for him to accept nor reject her offer. Panchy simply plugged in her vacuum and turned it on without hesitation. Vegeta obliged in lifting the entire couch off of the floor with a single hand and smirked. It would be so easy for him to show off a simple display of his strength by spinning the couch on a single finger, but the light fixtures hung low and he really didn’t want to add to Panchy’s chore list and delay breakfast. 

“Oh, Vegeta! You’re such a strong man! Do me another favor, could ya? Could you pull out the TV stand? It’s been so long since I’ve been able to vacuum under it properly, and you’re such a big help!”

One piece of furniture after another, Vegeta ended up lifting every single bed, couch, and dresser until Panchy was satisfied with her cleaning. A bubbly smile rounded her cheeks as she thanked Vegeta for his kind help which she followed up with a sincere apology for delaying his training and his breakfast. 

“Now, come downstairs with me and I’ll get that breakfast whipped up in no time! After that you can return to your training. My, you work so hard Vegeta. It certainly shows!”

Girlish giggles escaped Panchy as she complimented Vegeta’s physique. His cheeks burned.  _ Good God this woman is just like her daughter! “You’re actually kind of cute,” “It certainly shows!” They’re incorrigible! Or,  _ Vegeta gulped nervously as he thought,  _ is Bulma just like her mother? _

He trailed into the kitchen behind Panchy where she immediately began pulling out pans, bowls, and pancake mix. Then she removed a cylindrical package from the refrigerator. “Would you like some sausage, too? I really should use this before it expires. Oh and perhaps some eggs as well. There’s a few bananas needing to be eaten as well.”

Panchy pulled out everything she could find and began whipping up a feast fit for a hungry hardworking Saiyan. Vegeta watched silently. He wasn’t familiar with Earth’s cooking devices and wasn’t sure how to mix these Earth ingredients together to create anything worth devouring.

As he watched, Bulma walked into the kitchen wearing her pajamas. “Mmm, Mom, it smells so good! Oh hey, Vegeta. What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be training by now.”

Panchy paused her cooking to gush. “Vegeta was such a helpful guy this morning! He lifted all of the furniture so I could clean for our guests tonight. Gosh, Bulma, he’s such a gentleman. It’s a good thing I’m married because if I wasn’t...! Ooh!”

This time Bulma blushed as bright red as Vegeta. “Mom! Do you even hear yourself?! You’re so embarrassing!” However, Panchy giggled undeterred and resumed her food preparation. Bulma looked to Vegeta with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry about her. She really is harmless.”

“Oh, Bulma!” Panchy interrupted, “I just had the most marvelous idea! Why don’t you marry Vegeta?”

Bulma’s mouth dropped and she called out, “But not that harmless! Geez mom! Why do you have to embarrass me like that?! I’m dating Yamcha remember?”

“That’s right! How could I forget? Silly me. He’s a fine young man, too.” Vegeta noticed a slight tone difference in the way she spoke about Yamcha from the way she spoke about himself. Even if it was a bit mortifying to hear her speak so flirtatiously about him. “Bulma, go get cleaned up while I cook everyone’s breakfast. Our guests will arrive in a few hours and there’s still so much to be done!”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

She left without another word giving Vegeta an opportunity to speak with Panchy alone. “You don’t approve of Yamcha?”

“Hmm? Oh it’s not like that.” She shook her head. “He really is a fine young man. It’s just… He and Bulma have been together for so long, but he has yet to commit to her. I’m beginning to believe he never will. Just this morning he left without saying anything to Bulma and who knows when he will return.”

Vegeta nodded in understanding. While he couldn’t say he had ever been in a position to commit to someone, he had been arranged to be married to the strongest female fighter on planet Vegeta prior to its demise. 

“It’s just so hard to see Bulma hurt repeatedly. Ya know, he disappears for years at a time without explaining where he’s going to or when he will be back. She never knows what he’s getting himself into or if he’s alive. She worries herself sick the first few months after he disappears, but then he’ll inevitably send a vague emotionless postcard and she just feels hurt and enraged. If he was just courteous enough to communicate, Bulma would certainly be fine with his extensive absences. She’s not unreasonable after all. She certainly understands how important training is to Yamcha. But he always comes back and Bulma forgives him after a very short time. Bulma just… Oh look at that! I’m rambling now aren’t I? Sorry about that, Vegeta. I really do respect my daughter’s decisions and privacy, but I am her mother and naturally worry about her. I’m sure your mother must’ve been the same way.”

The ease in the air turned to rigid tension at the mention of Vegeta’s mother. “I wouldn’t know, actually.”

“Oh. Terribly sorry to hear that, dear.”

“It is what it is, nothing more.” He answered her calmly, but the mention of his mother brushed against his deepest wound of all. If not for her, his father would not have been betrayed to Frieza in his attempt to rescue their son. 


End file.
